


Fight-or-Flight

by Fishyz9



Category: Days of Our Lives
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-14
Updated: 2013-02-14
Packaged: 2017-11-29 06:51:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/684074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fishyz9/pseuds/Fishyz9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by Will’s bad dream from DOOL preview for 28/12/12. Will cannot sleep and needs Sonny. In every way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fight-or-Flight

I’m thinking of kidnapping Sonny. I could take him to Switzerland. He’d like it there with all those very tall, unnecessary mountains. We could open up our own coffee house; call it something asinine, like “Wilson’s place”. That’s what people do, isn’t it? Merge the names of couples into something cutesy and annoying? We could just sell coffee to our Swiss, gay friendly customers, watch old Hitchcock films and play video games all day long. And make out. We would make out a whole-freakin’- lot. No more family drama, no more crippling anxiety, no more secrets. Just me and Sonny. 

Sonny, like sunshine. 

Just what the hell am I going to do? How the ever-living fuck have I let things get to this point? If I had just been a man, if I hadn’t crumbled like I always do, then this might all be out in the open and I could actually relax, and enjoy my time with Sonny. But I’ve robbed myself. I got stuck in my head again, and they cut me off. Gabi and Nick, my so-called best friend and my cousin. They forced me into a corner. I didn’t even see it, but I was forced to make this terrible decision with only a few days to think about it, and all whilst unable – no, forbidden to discuss it with the one person I love most. Now it’s done. Now I’m going to have to watch as my son or daughter is raised by another man. And maybe I could have lived with it, maybe it could have worked out, if Nick hadn’t gone and ruined it all with two goddamn words. 

Gay boy. 

Gay boy? Really, Nick? They’d promised me. They’d promised me that this child would want for nothing, that it would be raised in a loving home. That doesn’t sound too goddamn loving to me. And what did she do? What did my ex-girlfriend and close friend, Gabi, do when hearing Nick’s slur? Nothing. She did nothing, said nothing. And now I can’t think. My kid is going to be raised by a bigot. My child will grow up and potentially be taught to hate people like me. Like Sonny. She didn’t tell me he was a bigot. She didn’t tell me it would hurt this much. The baby isn’t even here yet and I already can’t stand it. I know how crappy it is to be shuffled from one house to the other, to feel like you don’t have a home. And I know it’s my fault, I know I did this to Gabi and she deserves her happiness, but… this isn’t the nineteen fifties. Couldn’t something be arranged between the four of us? The baby wouldn’t have to suffer, I’d come to them, I’d do what I’d have to, absolutely anything to make it easier for all parties…but not this. 

Now I have to make another decision. An even worse one. Do I let this happen, and give Gabi her rose tinted happily ever after? Or do I insert myself back into this equation. Nothing else has changed. I’m still an eighteen year old student who waits tables. I’m still gay. I can’t give Gabi the traditional family she wants, and I can’t provide for a baby as a man ought to. But I can’t let this baby be born into a lie, either. From its first breath, this baby will be lied to by the people who are supposed to love it the most. 

And then there’s Sonny. Oh God. If I’d just told Sonny as soon as I found out, I think he might have stood by me. Supported me. If not as my boyfriend, then at least as a friend, because that’s who he is. His heart is so good. It’s the very best thing about him. But now this whole nightmare has gone on for far too long. He’s asked me time and again what’s wrong and I’ve just heaped on lie after lie. How can he trust me after this? How can he love me after this? I can’t be some mistake he made. I can’t hear him call me that again. It is the worst feeling. I don’t know what to do.

I don’t know what to do.

“Decaf?” 

I look at Sonny, lying on his side, his hand curled loosely near his mouth, and I have to press my lips together to smother my smile. I love, love, love that Sonny mumbles in his sleep. He’d be mortified to know that even when asleep he’s still taking his customer’s orders. 

A quick glance at the clock tells me it’s three in the morning, the sun’s nowhere near ready to make an appearance and there’s only a slither of moonlight sneaking through the curtain to highlight sonny’s features against his pillow. Sitting up against the headboard has only given me a crick in the neck, so I slink back down under the covers, facing Sonny, watching him sleep. I tell myself it isn’t creepy if the person you’re watching sleep is the dude you have sex with. Mind blowing, energetic, earth-shattering sex. 

I have to say, sex with guys is kind of awesome. Like a jigsaw piece slotting into place. Like sunrises, like finally understanding something that’s alluded me for so long. I get what a big deal sex is now. I love it - can’t get enough of it. I tell Sonny I’m just making up for lost time, and he smiles, all giddy and flattered, but it isn’t just that. It’s the thrill of touching Sonny in a way that it so intimate – in a way that no one else gets to touch him.

I love it when I move over him, seeing his throat work as he swallows and lifts one knee, giving me room to lie between his legs. I love being inside of him. Making love to him. Because as frantic and intense as our bodies inevitably become, that little catch in his voice, the sharp intake of his breath when I push inside of him for the first time and take that first, long, slow stroke? It’s perfection. Those brown eyes, locked onto mine. So trusting, so present. The way his hands stroke over my chest as my hips flex against him. The way his brow puckers in a frown and his eyes close tight when I take him to that brink and then edge away, drawing it out. The way his hands slide and lose their grip when my back’s slick with sweat. The way he gasps and hides his face against my neck when I dare to move my hips with a little more force and– damn. I’m hard again. 

How many times have I awoken him in the middle of the night because I can’t sleep for wanting him so much? How many times have we overslept, collapsing, exhausted against the sheets only hours before I have class and he has work? He never complains, in fact I’ve never seen him so happy. I did that. I made this wonderful person happy. How do I even begin to take that away from him? I can’t think about it just now. Right now, all I want is Sonny awake. Sonny aroused. 

I want something else, too…

I find it kind of adorable that he’s still too shy to ask. Even after the ‘I love you’, even after that first, frightening, perfect time that I moved down his chest with my lips, and tried the one thing that had been my deepest desire for the longest time. He’s still afraid of freaking me out, of scaring me away. I can feel it sometimes, I can sense when he’s nervous, when he’s building up to suggestively, gently, putting me on my back and laying between my thighs in a silent request. But he always backs off, and it probably doesn’t help that by the time I have his shirt off I’m too amped up to care about the logistics and just need to somehow be inside of him. Young love, and all that. 

He doesn’t realize that he can’t scare me off. That I need him, more now than ever before. He doesn’t know how lost in him I truly am. And I don’t know how to say any of it. I don’t know how to tell him that I will always be in love with him, even if he eventually walks away from me. He’s my safe place. He’s home. 

My hands twitch with the need to touch him. I tell myself that twenty two is young, and that really, he doesn’t need a full night’s sleep. Easing down the comforter, I look at him, and sigh. I’m naked over here, and he’s in a tank and boxers. He has this natural air of easy confidence without seeming smug. He’s comfortable with everyone and especially with who he is. But I never would have thought he’d be self-conscious. And why would he be? Look at him. He’s gorgeous. 

He’s got those dark eyes that make me melt every damn time he looks at me. A killer smile. Skin with this golden sheen, a touch darker than my own. And I have this thing about his shoulders…I don’t really know how to explain it, but I kind of love them. They’re a fraction wider than mine and when they move I can see the muscle work. It just…there’s just something distinctly masculine about those shoulders, something alpha. It kills me that he would ever feel self-conscious, especially around me. 

He told me once – after our little hiccup during Halloween when my dad had his mini freak out and transferred that shit onto me – that I was hot. I remember it surprising me, stumping me, even. He’d babbled nervously, trying to explain himself, explaining how he’d gotten me to his apartment, as if it was the worst thing in the world. But honestly? It was cute as hell. I mean, that was Sonny’s version of a lie. That was apparently Sonny at his worst. I’d wanted to hug him so bad; he’d practically squirmed when coming clean, and it just flat out melted me. There was no way I could get mad at him, not when he was being that cute, not when I was that flattered. It never occurred to me that he would be nervous. That he would somehow feel like he didn’t…measure up? It kills me, because damn it if it he isn’t the single most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. 

I lean in close, whisper in his ear. “Sonny?”

“Hmm?” 

I grin. Sleepy Sonny is something special. I press a soft kiss against my favorite spot, beneath his ear, and feel him shiver as he blinks slowly awake. “Baby?” I whisper, nervous at using an endearment he may or may not find dumb.

He gives me a sleepy smile and stretches slowly, rolling closer. His eyes fall shut again as his hand reaches out to trace my jaw. “Is it time to get up already?” He murmurs.

I take that hand; press a kiss to his palm. “No,” I murmur, and even I’m surprised at how gravelly my voice sounds; all deep and gruff with arousal. Sonny’s eyes open, one eyebrow arching as he lifts his head slightly, off of the pillow. I can tell he’s both amused and pleased, and just as he opens his mouth to say something I roll over him, putting him on his back. I thread my fingers through his hair, kissing him. God, I love kissing him. 

“I love kissing you.” 

I really hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but he’s smiling up at me, still sleepy but mostly awake now. And I feel this warmth inside, all soft and peaceful, just from the way he looks at me. Like I could move mountains. Like I’m his hero. Like he loves me. 

“That’s just as well, really.” He murmurs, stretching his neck just as his hand slides against the nape of my neck. I don’t need any encouragement. I dip down for another lingering, slow kiss. “Because I kind of love it when you kiss me.”

I smile into the kiss. “I’m never going to get enough of you.” I whisper. 

“Love you.” He whispers back, and I swallow the lump in my throat and close my eyes as his lips touch feather light against my brow, against my closed lids. 

I open my eyes, and there in the dark, in this tiny apartment, in those beautiful eyes, is everything I could ever want. I brush my lips to his, and then pull away teasingly. “You know what else I love?” 

Before he can answer I’ve moved the comforter aside, and slunk down to his stomach in one fluid movement. I look up and meet his eyes as I push the hem of his black tank up and kiss his stomach. He says nothing, wetting his lips nervously as I move upwards, pressing slow kisses to his warm skin as I move. I wait for him to lift his head off of the pillow, and finally that damn tank is gone, resting somewhere on the bedroom floor. I rest on one elbow and watch my own hand as it moves over his chest, over his stomach to his hip. 

“You know what else I love?” I repeat, husky now. 

“W-what?” He whispers. 

I go back to my favorite spot beneath his ear, and grin when he shivers. “I love this body.”

I hear his shaky laugh; see his nervous, not quite convinced smile. I cup his jaw, look him in the eye. “Sonny, I love your body.” I take his hand, and find myself a little breathless at my own daring as I move it down to my groin, pressing it against my arousal. I lick my lips. “This is what you do to me. You. No one else.”

Like a clearing fog I can see the beginnings of a calm, comfortable acceptance in his expression that lasts only a moment before hunger takes over and, suddenly, it is on. Our kisses grow uncoordinated, almost messy as we desperately push away the sheets and roll on the mattress until our bodies are lined up in that précises, perfect way. His fingers that were carding through my hair a second ago now close into a fist, causing a surprisingly pleasant stinging in my scalp that makes me gasp as his lips latch onto my neck. His other hand trails down my back that’s already growing damp with sweat, my heart’s beating so damn fast. 

And then I feel it in him. The hesitation. His hand lingers at the small of my back, moves to the side, and then settles at the top of my thigh, just beneath my cheek. I can’t help but smile into our kiss, shaking my head slightly. 

“What?” He asks me, breathless in a way that causes a throb in my groin. 

“Sonny,” I murmur against his lips. “Sex with you is…it’s perfection, okay? But–”

“But?” He interrupts, his voice soft, a hint of uncertainty entering those dark brown eyes, and I just about melt with the need to reassure him.

“But,” I continue, threading my fingers through his hair. “I just want you to know that…uh” I break off with a nervous laugh, and I can feel my cheeks flush with heat.

“You’re blushing.” He whispers, a hesitant smile forming on his lips. “I love it when you do that.”

I swallow. “I just want you to know that…that I’m yours. If-if you want me.” I bite the corner of my lip and hear myself laugh breathlessly through my embarrassment, too nervous to just come out and say it.

His eyebrow arches, and the most adoring, pleased smile pulls at his lips. “Are you saying that you’d…you want to…?”

I laugh quietly, feeling ridiculous, and close my eyes tight for a second, unable to look at him. “I need you.” I practically gasp out. His thumb swipes over my cheek and against my lashes, making my eyes open. 

The look in his eyes is pure molten, there’s tenderness there, but a confidence too that I hadn’t even fully realized had been absent until now. The way he moves from beneath me is smooth and effortless. Suddenly I’m breathless and my mouth is dry as those shoulders, so masculine and warm to the touch are above me, the contour of his muscle visible even in the dark. I feel his weight above me and I look nervously to him for guidance when his hand guides my thigh aside, making room for him. 

“I promise–” He begins.

“I know.” I interrupt him, nodding my head eagerly.

He dips his head and kisses me with an assertiveness I – for some reason – hadn’t quite expected. It draws a sound from me, something close to a desperate groan that I’ve never heard myself make before. I feel him smile against my lips and he begins a seductive grind against me, sucking all the air out of my lungs. 

“Sonny” I hear myself pant out, my hand moving to grip the back of his shoulder. “Damn.”

My hips – without even thinking about it – move in tandem in a perfect roll against his. This suddenly wasn’t just Sonny moving against me. It was a man. Of course, I’ve always thought of Sonny as a man – a total guy, but this was something different. This was Sonny in charge. This was the other side of the coin. This was total and complete trust in another person. 

“Can we? Please?” I ask in an alarmingly desperate voice.

He nods, and when he moves aside to the bedside draw, I use that moment to close my eyes and take a deep breath. A different kind of nervousness fills me, but it’s more or less completely overridden by my eagerness to know Sonny in this new way. 

He takes care of me, just as he showed me how to our first time together. And where I expected to feel awkward, or embarrassed, I felt loved. I felt important. His eyes don’t leave mine for a second, and when suddenly it’s time and he’s above me, asking me if I’m sure, this time I say nothing. I nod my head, tug at his waist, and then it’s happening. 

My breath rushes out of me, my eyes squeeze shut, and I feel his lips at my temple. His hand cradles my jaw, and when I open my eyes he’s looking right at me. Right at me. No barriers. He brushes his nose tenderly against mine and I see him bite his lip. 

“Sometimes it hurts to look at you, Will.” He confides, flooring me. “I can’t believe you’re mine.”

I can’t answer him because my heart is pounding. I can’t answer him because I’m dying and because I’m more alive than ever before. I can’t answer him because he takes my breath away with the way he’s moving above me – inside of me. I can only close my eyes and feel what it is he’s doing to me. 

His breath is hot against my temple and my hands move from his hips, up along his back to hook over his shoulders. I feel a flash of panic at how quickly I’m unraveling and clutch him close. I can’t help but hide, pressing my face into his chest and against his neck. He must feel the fear in me because he’s murmuring to me, slowing down, kissing me and telling me to open my eyes. I do as he says, and his gentle smile eases that panic, but the rolling pleasure, the building fire in my groin is still very much present. 

“Please,” I whisper, looking to him, silently asking him to never leave and to always love me no matter what. He takes me to that brink. He loves my body with his own and it’s passionate and it’s wonderful and it’s everything. Absolutely everything. 

I feel him shake, I feel him unravel right along with me and it’s perfect. When we reach that peak, we’re flush against each other, hanging onto one another and trembling in the aftershock. The deep exhale that leaves me mirrors his, and when we sink into the bed, still tangled together, we share a disbelieving, secretive smile as we suck in deep breaths. 

The same quietness that stole over us the first time we slept together is back. A sort of hushed, stunned few moments where we convey it all with only a touch and a look. When I need him closer I don’t even have to speak, he pulls me closer. And it feels good to be held. I clutch him close, squeeze my eyes shut and pray for all the tangled, jagged thoughts that had kept me awake in the first place to just stay away for a short while longer. 

This man is my friend. My lover and partner. My safe place and my home. I’m dying to let him know me completely, to let him comfort me and tell me everything will be alright…but I can’t. I can’t force the words past my lips. 

“Will?” He murmurs. 

I can’t look at him yet, I can only clench my jaw and clutch him closer. 

“Will, I…” He breaks off and sighs. “It’s okay.” He whispers. 

I snap my head up, confused. “You know that was incredible, right?” The last thing I want is for him to doubt himself. 

A soft, somewhat adoring smile pulls at one corner of his lips, and he kisses me softly. “Oh, absolutely.”

I relax, my head resting once more on his shoulder, but the way he’s stroking my shoulder? It’s like he’s trying to gentle a skittish animal. I’m confused until he whispers, somewhere above my head and into my hair.

“Will. I can feel it.” He rubs my shoulder, strokes my hair. “Something has you frightened.”

I immediately tense up and he sighs again, but he doesn’t let go of me. I swallow hard, and feeling like a coward I just shake my head, unable to look him in the eye. 

“It’s why you can’t sleep.” He continues, still so gentle and soothing. 

“I’m fine.” I say with a telling quiver to my voice.

“No,” he whispers. “You’re not. But you’re also not ready to say whatever it is out loud.”

“Sonny,” I choke out, shaking my head against his shoulder, clutching him close, desperate. “Don’t.”

“Just…know that I’m here, okay?” 

I clench my jaw, feeling like the worst possible type of man. I don’t deserve this patience. I don’t deserve him.

“When you are ready, you can say whatever it is to me, and it will all be alright, okay? Whatever it is, I’ll help you.”

“I love you.” It’s all I can say. 

“And until you feel like you can tell me…” He continues. “I’m just going keep on holding you tight, just like this, alright?” 

I let out a deep breath. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what it is I’ve done. 

“And I love you too.” He whispers. 

I just let him hold me. I take it all in, because who knows when I’ll lose this – lose him. I have to make a decision, but not now, not when Sonny feels so perfect in my arms.

So, a coffee house in Switzerland…


End file.
